Memories Just Keep Returning
by Electric Candlelight
Summary: Jackson can't help but be reminded of his time at war when he goes on a seemingly unimportant coon-hunting run with his dogs. Post-war, and alternate universe.


Author's Note: I like this story. I always imagined Jackson with Coonhounds, they're great dogs and I'm rather fond of them, although I wouldn't ever want to own one. Anyhow, please take the time to review, it's loved and encourages me to write more stories like these. Thank you, everybody! Have a nice morning. :)

It was morning, and a dim light was creeping through the black outlines of the dew-covered trees in the forest. His feet crunched against the wet ground cover of leaves as he moved, accompanied by several more rapid footsteps from the dogs that ran alongside him, knowing to be silent until the end.

They were everywhere at once, a river of blue, red, black and tan, white and other colors. Their thin tails were held high as they lowered their muzzles to the ground to sniff the wet earth, trying to catch the scent of a wandering raccoon.

A couple of crows cawed loudly overhead at being disturbed and took flight, launching themselves into the crisp fall air with inhuman grace and flying away. The dogs and he weren't the only animals in the Tennessee forest. Birds, squirrels, deer, perhaps even snakes, hidden under the rocks and logs that the dogs leapt over.

A black and tan dog stopped, smelling the ground, and then threw his head up, baying at the top of his lungs. The sound ran through the entire forest, it seemed, and more crows began to caw indignantly as they flew away, sometimes only a few feet to higher branches.

The other hounds began to bay back, tossing their heads in turn. For a moment it seemed like they were congratulating the other…And something about that caused a little twist of pain somewhere in his chest…

They began to run again, this time with a new determination, although they didn't run faster or even any harder. It was only the aura around the dogs that changed as they gained new purpose and will.

Jackson watched them and found himself looking away for a moment as he jogged with them, finding his thoughts moving back to the radar station. _Miller. _Amazing how one man, one dog, can influence so many others…

They went along new twists and turns through the forest as the sun began to rise and light began to better fill it, never slowing down, never running any faster than they had before. They reached a tree and a new dog, different than the one that had called, raised his head and bayed. The others sang back to him.

Jackson saw the gray creature scurrying up the purple bark of the pine tree, small pieces falling from the trunk. Its fur was fluffed out and in its eyes seemed to be a terror that he had never really noticed before.

It was trapped between a deadly fall and the wrath of the dogs barking and baying beneath it, jumping up on their hind legs and some even getting off the ground and onto the tree, maybe climbing a foot before falling.

Jackson aimed his gun, but he didn't shoot. He only watched the raccoon, paralyzed with fear as it wobbled on a thin branch, unable to make a decision. It tried to raise its tail for balance and the branch shook harder. _Steamboat Willie._

He slowly lowered the gun, knowing that if he shot he wouldn't miss. He'd never missed once in his life since he started hunting, and he hadn't taken the time to count the creatures he killed like some hunters did. Maybe he was ashamed.

But for whatever reason…He couldn't shoot this animal. He whistled to the dogs and, looking disappointed, they started back towards him at a lazy trot, their legs falling in a skewered unison. He couldn't help but be reminded of the time after Steamboat Willie was freed.

One of the dogs—a large black-and-tan, male, turned and abruptly growled at a smaller male, neutered because he wasn't suitable breeding stock. The redbone cringed, shrinking away from the dog and rolling onto his back, submissive, his ears flattened. _Reiben and Upham._

The black-and-tan delivered a sharp bite to the smaller dog's leg and the redbone yelped in a high pitch, tucking his tail as he got up and looking over his shoulder nervously. Jackson knew he was nervous…the dogs were just as emotional as humans, and sometimes, he was more fond of the previous.

As the larger of the two left a white and brown female approached, bending over and gently licking the injured leg, her pink tongue flicking in and out of her finely shaped mouth. _Wade. _The injured dog stayed still, then licked her back, on the face, puppy licking, a sign of submission.

As they reached the edge of the forest close enough to his home they were greeted by a few neighs from the horses kept in the dew-covered pasture a bit away from the house. One of the dogs, another redbone, trotted forward with the nonchalance of one accustomed to such things, came up to the pasture fence, and sat down, barking once, as if saying, _hello, hello!_ _Mellish._

Another dog sat down next to him, casually licking a paw, and put his head through the wooden fence, watching the horses as they trotted about. _Caparzo. _One of the horses trotted up to the fence, snorting, pawing the ground, tossing his head. _Horvath._

The war had ended, and would never happen for a second time. But the memories just kept coming.


End file.
